


Ancap's Financial Aid

by posadistwaifu



Category: Jreg
Genre: BDSM, GOD HELP US, M/M, Multi, Torture, based off an idea about ancap somehow?? going broke???, posadist gang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posadistwaifu/pseuds/posadistwaifu
Summary: When Ancap runs into some financial trouble, he enlists the help of the rest of the extremists.I'm not good with summaries -
Relationships: Ancap/Authcap, Ancom/Authcom, Ancom/Authcom/Authcap
Comments: 20
Kudos: 95





	1. sir this is a mcdonald's

"so, i need you all to star in a porn film with me!"

there was complete silence. so quiet that, if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear that little siren that sounds whenever posadism mentions anything about nuclear holocaust. 

which, by the looks of most everyone (with the exception of a young ... person whose mouth was covered anyways), could very well happen - or, at the very least, the world war trilogy might finally come to a close.

authcap was the first to speak. he slammed his handgun down on the kitchen table hard enough to shake the coffee in his mug, scooted his chair back in one smooth motion, and said what was on everyone's mind: "what the fuck did you say?"

"look," sighed ancap as he leaned down against one hand, the other upon his hip. a grin, always at the ready, sprang upon his face. "it'll be beneficial for everyone! i'll make it worth your while ~! what does everyone want? name your price, i'll make it ha -"

"- everyone here knows better than to take handouts from a rat like you, capitalist scum. unlike sputnik, that's not going to fly." tankie interrupted, accent thick with indignation. really, the russian was still stunned at what ancap had suggested. how degenerate.

fuck, he was starting to sound like the damn nazi. authcom sipped coolly from his coffee mug and stared thoughtfully down at the sludgy brown stuff while ancap, clearly exasperated and desperate, started in on the young ideology sitting to the left of the big russian. not everyone was so sensible when it came to the allure of free things.

"listen, ancom, my friend: if you help me out, i'll share half of my secret drug stash with you!"

quie had been swaying quier head to some anarchist post-punk rock, earbuds snug in quier ears - though, at the mere temptation of drugs, ancom's grin went from ear to ear, and quie nodded quier head eagerly.

really, the anarkiddie didn't even know what the fuck was going on. but, quie reasoned, it couldn't be so bad, right?

with a slight glimmer of relief hiding behind those designer shades, ancap then turned his gaze expectantly between the two doubting thomases, raising his brows in silent questioning.

"hey, don't look at me. i've been wrapped up in your schemes before, but this? this is fucking degenerate. absolutely not." the "'white identitarian"' shook his head and walked away, making his stance on the matter crystal clear.

despite the dire situation, ancap knew better than to even try violating the NAP when authcap's mind was made up. which meant ... his chocolate brown eyes slowly dragged over towards the tankie.

at first, authcom was staunchly opposed to this whole affair. it was only going to end up benefiting that greedy, money-hungry bastard anyways. but, since his communist friend got into this, he knew he had to make sure that quiem didn't get all caught up in right-wing ideologies. who else would represent the gays if ancap got to the gullible anarkiddie and took quiem away? this was for the good of the people, and he needed ancom in order to make communism appeal to the people.

with silent strength and full knowledge of the moral cost, tankie rose from the kitchen table, straightened up his coat and hat, and gently yanked those earbuds out from anarkiddie's ears.

"what the hell was that for? tankieee -!!!" whined quie in quiems screechy voice - only to be promptly silenced by the russian shaking his head. tankie looked confident and strong, his jaw set firmly. when ancom looked questioningly up at him, he placed a big hand upon quiems shoulder and smiled down at quiem.

there would be no way in hell quie would make the centricide out alive. and if quie did, an ak-47 would dispose of that filthy freedom fighter quite easily.

"this is for the people - and only the people." began the communist, his other hand gesturing at ancom's half-covered visage as he addressed ancap. "i'm not doing this for you, da?"

ancap could feel his spirits lifting already. sure, a threesome would make less money than an orgy - a gay orgy, at that. the more niche, the more money it'll make. a shame that the nazi couldn't be involved - that uniform he owned would turn anybody on - but there will be money. 

he looked between the other anarchist and his communist crony, plans already forming in his morally depraved mind.

oh, there will be money.


	2. sir this is a wendy's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter because fuck plot development amirite

"you could do it for karl fucking marx and i wouldn't give a shit -"

" -hey!" interjected the leftists, ancom (for some reason) appearing greatly offended.

ancap scoffed, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses before planting both hands on the angles of his hips. "okay, okay, let's not get our manifestos in a bonfire. we're - well, i'm - making money here, with assistance from you two. after this, we never have to work together again. deal?"

he offered two hands - one to anarkiddie and one to authcom. whereas the younger of the three happily shook the offered hand (and excitedly snatched the snuck-in baggie of weed), tankie instinctively wrinkled up his nose and slapped the capitalist clean across the face.

the businessman's head snapped to the side, reddening face contorted into a slight grimace. "now that's -" ancap said after a moment, his lips lifting into a wry grin. "- that's the moneymaker right there! sadomasochism, torture, maybe a bit of bondage? oh, the possibilities are completely endless!"

authleft took off his cap for once, revealing his thick, dark hair. sadomasochism was something he didn't know much about, but torturing ... that he could do something with. he ran his hands thru his hair, sighing thru his nose, before fixing his hat back on.

meanwhile, anarkiddie looked positively confused. "i missed something. what the fuck is going on? ancap? tankie?"

there wasn't an answer - at least, not a direct one, anyways. ancap slapped his hands down gently on the table. "you'll see soon enough, kiddie. remember - you're getting cocaine outta this, so there's no way you'll regret it!" and, with that and a playful flash of gun fingers, he spun around on his heel.

snazzily dressed in an expensive italian suit and his jawline sharper than a knife, the man was made to kill, and what with the way he carried himself as he led the leftists, he definitely knew he was the shit. authcom hated how the other male was so disgustingly cocky, while the masked anarchist almost admired it - almost. 

quie ran his fingers listlessly over the small bump in quiems hoodie pocket. ancap wasn't all that bad, not at all like his authoritarian counterpart. nonetheless, quie kept on walking thru the winding corridors of the huge house. geez, how repulsively rich can one person be?! ancom thought to quiemself as quiem looked around, resisting the urge to decimate some priceless antique vases.

the trio soon came upon a bookcase at the end of a corridor, a framed portrait of ayn rand at the right of the wooden case. ancap looked at his idol - right into her eyes, where there were hidden retinal scanners. pretty high tech, especially considering the conditions of the ... "'company"' where he had them made. 

"what an ugly woman." muttered the tankie under his breath as he gave the portrait a quick once-over, to which the shorter communist loudly protested with a bonk of a baseball bat to authcom's shoulder and a screech of: "did you just assume that person's gender?!"

"you two sound like an old married couple - commie, get the kid under control, i'm making money here!" ancap could barely contain his irritation, continuing to stare adoringly into ayn's eyes.

nevertheless, not a moment too soon, and the bookcase had slid open to reveal a pitch-black room. curiosity in quiems eyes, ancom ventured in first, bat swung high over the shoulder as quiems free hand slid over the wall for a light switch, barely noticing the ancap's wolfish smile and the quiet click of the door closing behind him. once quie found it and flicked it on, the space filled with light, and quiems jaw dropped behind the bandanna.


	3. sir this is a taco bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 1 of complete degeneracy, a.k.a. the part everyone's been waiting for.   
> i'll go back later when i have more time and change the tags and chapter names, i kinda want this to be a somewhat serious fanfic -

it was a bedroom, that was for sure. a luxurious bedroom, with a beautiful, dark hardwood floor, a canopy bed set against one of the burgundy-painted walls, and every decoration either gold or inlaid with the precious metal, complete with platinum and marble splendor. truly a room fit for royalty ... however, all of this - despite its disgusting opulence - was gone completely amiss in ancom's eyes. why would quiem focus on such things when there was the authcap himself, bound to an ornately carved mahogany chair and gagged with his own belt? 

at anarkiddie's gasp and muffled giggle, the uniformed man snapped his neck to the side, that malicious glare in his eyes a sufficient substitute for his suppressed protests. why did that pathetic bleeding heart have to see him like this?! he thrashed in his binds, every motion elegantly silenced by plush velvet upholstery.

"fuck. oh my fucking god, tankie, look at that! look at him!" the masked anarchist tapped frantically on authcom's shoulder and jabbed a finger towards quiem's capitalist opposite, like he was an animal in a zoo. "damn, you didn't have to do this - i always knew he'd be the type to get tied up!"

in response, authcom stayed stonefaced and silent, coolly regarding the scene before him. so, is this what the ancap had in mind? revenge porn? tsk, tsk ... he had to stifle his own bout of laughter. this really was outrageous, seeing the nazi like this. guess he really was tied up at the moment, wasn't he! his eyes darted over to his anarchist crony for a moment before stepping out of quiems reach.

authcap was about to be in a sticky situation in a minute.

not bothering to hear anymore from the left, ancap laughed under his breath, reddened eyes glinting coldly underneath gucci shades. he walked away from the light of the chandelier, shadows casting over the sharp dips and angles in his vulpine face, and calmly slunk towards his friend. 

transhumanism wanted to be a real robot so badly, it would've been cruel of the capitalist to simply deny the man. of course, maybe it was a bit demoralizing to program him - well, it - to constantly be on the lookout for anyone violating the NAP within the extremist hideout. oh well. 

plans were already forming in his despicable mind, the ancap almost drooling at the thought of how much people would pay to see an anarkiddie and a communist fucking a fully uniformed nazi into submission. the video wouldn't even need him - which would be preferable, as he never liked to work for his profits, anyways. however, it wasn't enough to simply think: these ball has got to roll. 

it just needed a little push. ancom was basically foaming at the mouth, pent-up rage only being held back by the russian's frigid stare. it wouldn't take much to convince quiem to channel quiem's hatred into physical brutality, and authcom would fully condone anything the younger did if it meant quiem looked up to him with stars in those big brown eyes.

stopping in front of authright, who by now had gotten the vibe of this whole fucked up situation that tinfoil-covered freak had dragged him into and was fighting for his dignity against his restraints, the anarchist half of the right union silenced the capitalist complement with a simple snap.

no, not of fingers, but with a riding crop, the leather leaving a ruby red welt upon that impeccable cheekbone.


End file.
